


Safe Travels

by Zephyrfox



Series: Have Double O, Will Travel [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Exasperated Q, M/M, Oblivious Q, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Protective James Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 17:04:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10926216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zephyrfox/pseuds/Zephyrfox
Summary: Q is delayed on his way home from a conference. He would like Bond to get out of his hotel room so that he can get some sleep.James just wants to keep his Quartermaster safe, and for his fellow Double O's to stop being so annoying.





	Safe Travels

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Kryptaria for betaing!

 

“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?” Q carefully dropped his bag to the hotel room floor as he waited for an explanation. This had better be good. He’d been traveling all day, and was exhausted. Weather had delayed all of his flights, causing him to miss his last connection. At least he'd been able to talk the airline into comping him the hotel room. He’d been looking forward to soaking in a tub for a while before crawling into bed. He eyed Bond.  _Alone._

“There’s a dead body in mine.” Bond’s tone sounded as though that were a perfectly reasonable occurrence. Then he… undulated… in a manner that caused different parts of him to move in interesting ways.

Q steadfastly ignored those interesting ways. Bond was _not_ supposed to be here. He and M had an agreement, damnit. No visible security for this conference. Besides, if anyone showed up in his room it should have been Hector. 004 was his security for this trip. Wait. No. He wouldn’t want Hector naked in his bed either.

He suppressed a shudder and glared. It was all Bond’s fault. If Bond hadn’t been there, he wouldn’t have thoughts he didn’t need to have.

Bond’s eyes widened, and he sat up, waving his hands in a calming motion. “Now, Q. Before you decide to murder me, let me explain.”

Q gritted his teeth and strove for patience. “What?”

“004 was supposed to be your security. He had a little… accident. I volunteered to take his place.” Bond sounded smug, as though butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.

“That explains why you’re here, but not why you’re _here.”_

Bond smiled broadly. “I told you. There’s a body in my bed.”

Q’s hands clenched into fists. “Get up, and get out. I want to sleep.”

“I can’t get out. I don’t have any clothes.”

That was it. He forced his fists to unclench, and he bent down to grab his bag.

On the bed, Bond began to look alarmed. “Q? What are you doing?”

He turned, opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. He was done. He had no intention of playing games. He was too bloody tired.

“Q?”

He ignored Bond and shut the door. He took a deep breath and rearched for the reserves that helped him stay awake, working on a project, for days at a time. He needed to make his way back to the front desk to get another room.

 

~~~~

 

Bond cursed under his breath as he watched his Quartermaster leave. Q had looked exhausted.

He’d hoped to keep Q distracted and in the room while 003 took care of the assassin’s body. They still weren’t sure how the assassin had managed to find out which room the Quartermaster would be given. Bond was just glad that he’d been able to get a jump on the man before Q got there.

As it was, after Hale put the body in a laundry cart and wheeled it away, he’d barely had enough time to strip off his bloody clothes before Q entered the room.

He lunged across the bed to get to his mobile and speed-dialed his other partner. When 005’s voice came on the line, he interrupted. “Peters, I need to you track Q. He went to get another room. He doesn't know he’s in danger.”

Peters went into peals of laughter.

Bond gritted his teeth and hissed, “It’s not funny.”

“Yes, Bond. Yes, it is. The great Bond, seducer extraordinaire, can’t get his Quartermaster to stay in the same room with him. Dare I say, ‘I told you so’?”

“Fine,” he growled. “Just find Q. And tell Hale to bring me some clothes when he’s done getting rid of the body. Mine are ruined after the assassin bled all over them.”

Peters snickered again. “You were the one to get up close and personal, James.”

“Adam. It’s _our_ Quartermaster in danger. Are you going to protect him or not?”

“Relax, James, your Q will be fine. I’ve already texted Shaun. He’s done ditching the body and will shadow the Quartermaster. That means I’ll be the one to bring you some clothes.”

Bond was left listening to dead air as Peters ended the call. He fought down the urge to smash the mobile into the wall. He’d need it to keep in contact with the rest of the team protecting Q.

 

~~~~

 

Q cautiously opened the door to his new room and looked inside. It was, happily, Bond-free, so he entered and once more dropped his bag to the floor.

He turned and made sure the door was locked, then threw the security bar into place. He didn’t bother with the room’s main lights. It was easier just to leave them off. He navigated by the glow from the light over the entry as he went farther into the room and threw himself on the bed face-first.

His glasses slid down his nose onto the mattress. He groaned. He’d need to clean them in the morning. He shifted to pick them up, folded them, and placed them on the nightstand before collapsing back onto the mattress.

It was soft, and the rain outside had eased into a gentle patter against the window, and he finally relaxed enough for sleep to claim him.

 

~~~~

 

“What the hell is this?” Bond stared down at the pile of fabric that Peters had dumped in his hands.

“Your clothes, of course.” Peters smiled innocently, an impish light in his hazel eyes. “Run along now, James. Get dressed.”

Bond curled his lip at the jeans and t-shirt. At least the shirt was blue. He looked good in blue.

 

~~~~

 

Bond prowled down the hall, passing the door Q slept peacefully behind. Shadows in the alcove ahead stirred as he approached.

Hale’s voice floated out into the hall. “Is that you, James? I almost didn’t recognize you.”

He caught the snarl before it escaped. Hale and Peters would regret their teasing — when Q was safe. “Have you seen anything?”

Hale shook his head. “It’s been quiet. No sign of anyone showing more interest in Q than is necessary. Except you, of course.”

Bond fumed as Hale sniggered at his own joke. Why were 003 and 005 so unconcerned about the Quartermaster’s safety? 004 was lying in hospital, having risked his life to let MI6 know that their Quartermaster was in danger from remnants of Silva’s organization. They still didn't know how many assassins they faced.

Hale looked down as their mobiles chirped twice. Then his eyes met Bond’s. “Adam’s spotted something around back. You want to go?”

Bond hesitated, torn between rushing to assist Peters or staying to protect Q more directly. He searched Hale’s face and made his decision. “Stay here, and keep. Q. Safe.”

Hale nodded. “That’s what I’m here for, James. Good hunting.”

He spun on his heel and strode further down the hall, to the emergency stairs. Peters was stationed in the alley outside, just opposite the emergency exit. If Peters had seen something, chances were their enemies were coming up the stairs, and he and Peters could catch them in a pincer movement.

 

~~~~

 

Q rolled over in bed and stretched. He hadn’t slept so well in a long time. He sat up and regarded his sleep-rumpled suit with distaste. He needed a shower and a change of clothes.

He grabbed his glasses as he got up and put them on, grimacing at the smudges. A soft cloth and some polishing took care of that. Then he looked around the room. Where had he left his bag? He’d been so tired when he got in…

Ah. By the door. He’d dropped it. His sucked in a breath, alarmed. _Crap._ He hurried over to the bag to check its contents. His laptop was rugged and well-padded, but what about his sunglasses?

He breathed a sigh of relief when he checked their case. They were fine. Good. He’d been experimenting with projecting information onto the lens, and the connections were still delicate. He brought the bag and case to the bed and pulled out his toiletries bag and another set of clothes.

The clothes got laid out neatly on the bed, and then he headed to the bathroom, shedding his suit as he went.

He turned the shower on, and sighed in pleasure as the warm water worked out the aches from the previous day’s travel. He luxuriated under the water for a bit longer than he meant to.

When he finally got out, he dried off and pulled on the fresh outfit. Then he repacked his bag and checked the room to make sure he had everything.

He gave a satisfied nod and went to the door. He paused and looked thoughtfully at his mobile. Should he tell Bond he was heading out? He shook his head. Bond replaced 004, and should know his schedule.

He left the room with a smile. He had a plane to catch.

 

~~~~

 

“I thought you were afraid to fly.”

Q jumped at the unexpected voice in his ear. The airline had told him he’d have the VIP lounge to himself since it was such an early hour. He turned in his seat and looked up. Bond stood there, smirking at him, wearing jeans and a tight, blue t-shirt. His eyes widened. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Bond wearing something so… casual.

“Q?”

Bond was frowning at him, concerned.

Q dragged his attention up to Bond's face. He noticed a hint of a bruise, high on Bond's cheek, which drew his attention to ice blue eyes. He shook his head, sternly telling himself to pay attention. “Afraid to fly? Of course not. Whatever gave you that idea?”

Bond looked confused. “Last year… during the mess with Silva,” he spat the name, “Moneypenny came to see me in Hong Kong. She said — she told me you were afraid to fly.”

Now he was confused, too. “Why in the world would Eve tell you that? She knows I love flying. I have a license to pilot small planes, and I’m working on my multi-engine license.”

Bond’s mouth opened and closed, soundlessly.

Q took pity on him. “I’m a man of hidden talents, James.” Now he smirked, pleased to see Bond still wrong-footed. Perhaps he might give in to all the innuendo after all. See what the fuss was about. Bond did have quite a reputation for pleasing his lovers.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication. Feel free to stop in to say hi - you can find me on Tumblr at leavesdancing.tumblr.com.


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